The Plush Doll
by cats n dots
Summary: In the end we're all disposable, right?


The Plush Doll

This story, that I am going to tell you, is about a banette.

It's not about just any banette, though; it's not about the one that belongs to Harley, nor to the Elite Four's Phoebe. It's not about an ordinary banette you can encounter at the Sky Pillar in Hoenn.

No, this story is about the very first one. The one that was once a mere plush doll that belonged to a little girl long, long time ago.

This is its story.

...

"Oh, I love it!" the little girl, five years old, squealed when she had ripped off the colourful wrapping paper. "Mommy, daddy, look!"

She held out a blue plush doll with small, puffy legs, long arms and a zipper as a mouth. It had round, red eyes and it stared serenely into its new owner's warm, hazel ones.

Her father put his arms around his wife and chuckled. "See, I told you she'd like it."

The girl hugged the toy and smiled happily. "You're the best Christmas present _ever_."

...

The girl was sitting on her bed. Tears were falling from the bright, brown eyes.

"You shouldn't listen to them", she sobbed to the plush doll in her arms. "Those kids in the playground, they're just mean jerks."

She wiped the tears with the palm of her hand.

"They have no right to laugh at you." She touched the zipper that portrayed its mouth. "It's not your fault that you have a zipper in your face, or that your eyes are red."

She hugged the doll more tightly.

"I wouldn't trade you for a billion of their stupid, plastic _Barbies_!" she spat furiously.

After a moment of silence, she spoke again, now more softly. "You know what? I'm gonna call you Banette. Not because you are a bane, but because everyone else thinks you are."

She eyed the doll for a moment, as if estimating the suitability of the name. The doll looked straight back at her, as happily as ever.

"And I think that's a cool name", the girl added, grinning.

...

In the middle of a night so dark and cloudy, the little girl was lying on her bed, those warm brown eyes wide open.

The sound of a thousand crawling little feet echoed in the room.

She didn't have to look. She knew they were there. They always were, when the darkness fell around her.

Slowly, her hand reached for the plush doll. She pulled it close and squeezed it against her chest. A single, crystal-clear tear fell on the pillow.

"If I hug you tightly enough, will the monsters go away?" she whispered to the doll.

...

"But I don't _wanna_!"

The girl pouted as her mother tried to force the yellow jumper over the girl's head. The woman sighed; it was a lost cause.

"Look, you have to go to school", she said to her daughter. "I'm sure Banette wants you to go."

The girl looked at the blue doll, which was leaning against her school bag.

"Well alright, then", she muttered resignedly. "If you think so."

She let her mother help with the jumper. Then she hopped onto her feet and grabbed the bag.

"Okay, Bee", she said, lowering her voice so her mother couldn't hear. "Keep the house together while I'm gone. I'll tell you _everything_ when I get back."

She hugged it one more time before going through the door, to the chilly and windy autumn morning.

...

"Do you like your Christmas present?" her father asked.

The girl looked down. The thing had straw-coloured curls and a peachy smile. The cornflower-blue eyes were staring motionlessly at the ceiling.

"It's prettier than Emily's!" she exclaimed, holding the doll high. "She's gonna get so jealous!"

Then she put it down and took the plush doll from her side.

"But you're still my favourite."

...

It was a starry, clear night.

The plush doll was sitting up there, on a dresser in the girl's room. Actually, it had sat there for quite a long time now. The dust had slowly but inevitably turned its beautiful blue colour into dull gray.

From its position it could see the girl's hand clutching the blue-eyed doll in her sleep. A small smile had found its way to her lips. She must be having a pleasant dream.

...

It was time to clean up her room. Their new home would be a little smaller, but it had a nice view over the lake. And a quite delightful garden, they had said.

"Decide what you want to take with you, and put the rest to a garbage bag", her mother's voice called out.

The girl stood in the center of the room for a while, not knowing where to start. Then she walked to the bed and started stuffing all the toys – including the blue-eyed doll – into a cardboard box with the words 'new house' on its side.

She went through every spot in the room, placing some items into the box and tossing the rest into the black garbage bag.

Eventually she reached for the top of the dresser and took the poor plush doll into her hands.

The doll was all dusty and dirty. The girl eyed it warily. The red eyes looked back at her.

Strange, she thought. Had they always been that gloomy and grim? Weren't they all round and happy before?

They stared at each other for a short time, the girl and the plush doll, the brown and the red eyes. Then, unceremoniously, she dropped it into the garbage bag.

...

There the doll lay, in the middle of all the other junk that had been thrown away. The garbage bag had opened, and the doll, along with some of the other contents, had rolled out onto the cold pavement.

The stars were looking at the plush doll in a way that was almost teasing.

Oh, it was so easy for them; they were so pretty, hanging up there, without any worries.

The anger, the complete, unbearable _rage_, steamed through the small plush doll. How could she do that? How could she throw it away? Like it was nothing, like it didn't matter.

The stars were oh, so far away.

Something happened inside the doll. It was like a tiny little click. It wanted to reach for the beautiful lights up there in their blissful nothingness.

And it wanted other things as well.

It wanted to live the life that had been its own.

It wanted to shatter that peachy smile and tear apart those cornflower eyes.

And it wanted to shut those other eyes too; those that were in a colour of the warmest hazel.

It wanted to have_ revenge_.

Slowly and shakily, the plush doll reached its long, three-fingered arm towards the night sky.

The banette was born.


End file.
